


we're gonna live at last

by imgoingtocrash



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon-Typical/Plot Relevant Slavery Mention, Discussion of Children, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Fluff, Notes of both doubt and optimism about the future, Post-Rogue One, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, The start of a longer conversation, established marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 13:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11276430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imgoingtocrash/pseuds/imgoingtocrash
Summary: "“Have you ever thought about,” Cassian stops himself, moving his gaze away from Jyn for a moment, admittedly gathering up the courage to broach the topic. “Did you ever want children? Before?” Before encompasses many things: The past years of their relationship. The years before they met. Ever.She shrugs. It’s not a non-committal action or a showing of indifference, but a sign that the question is complicated and she needs a moment to consider an honest answer. “Have you?” she questions, giving herself more time to think on it, maybe. To analyze where he’s coming from with the abrupt question.He looks down at the small child currently using Jyn’s thigh as a pillow, considering. He finds it hard not to think of children when he’s currently surrounded by a moderately large group of them.”After a mission that involves rescuing Imperial slaves and with possible peace on the horizon, Cassian and Jyn discuss their pasts and the possibility of children as a part of their future.





	we're gonna live at last

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I was gonna focus on internship stuff since I finished “coupled up with strangers”, but I did in fact not do that. Instead, I wrote this.
> 
> Title from We Found Each Other in the Dark by City and Colour, which is also just recommended listening for your post-war Cassian/Jyn needs.

“Have you ever thought about,” Cassian stops himself, moving his gaze away from Jyn for a moment, admittedly gathering up the courage to broach the topic. “Did you ever want children? Before?” Before encompasses many things: The past years of their relationship. The years before they met. Ever.

She shrugs. It’s not a non-committal action or a showing of indifference, but a sign that the question is complicated and she needs a moment to consider an honest answer. “Have you?” she questions, giving herself more time to think on it, maybe. To analyze where he’s coming from with the abrupt question.

He looks down at the small child currently using Jyn’s thigh as a pillow, considering. He finds it hard not to think of children when he’s currently surrounded by a moderately large group of them.

While the Empire is on the fringes after the loss of their Sith leader and the Battle of Endor, they are still determined to keep their claws hooked in where ever it is viable across the galaxy. The Alliance—soon to steer the galaxy into becoming a Republic again, if Mon Mothma, Leia Organa, and the rest of the council have their way—is still active in solving that problem.

In this case, it meant eradicating an outpost that seemed to specialize in turning children into future Imperial slaves. Parents of the local settlements were separated from their children. The parents who fought back the hardest were slaughtered on the spot. Those that submitted were taken elsewhere in the galaxy: worked to slower deaths in far off slaver camps, never expecting to see their children again. In turn, the children were huddled together in cramped quarters, deprived of rations, and worked into fearful submission in the hopes that they would lose any hostility cultivated toward the Empire long before they could learn what it meant to resist as so many in the galaxy already had.

The mission taken to rescue the children had gone well. There were Imperial casualties, a few Alliance soldiers down as well, but no recorded casualties among the listed children in the camps. 

Cassian wasn’t assigned to the mission initially. He’d specially requested permission to assist, not knowing at the time that Jyn’s team would also be participating. It was always a welcome surprise, working with his wife back-to-back like they’d done only a handful of times since returning from Scarif due to working in different areas of military specialization.

He scans the room slowly, glancing at the rescued children in the dimmed light of the ship’s cargo hold. Most are sharing blankets, huddled together despite the plethora of space in the ship in comparison to the hovel the Empire deemed appropriate for housing children. At the very least, an orphanage affiliated with the Alliance is preparing to welcome the group once they return. It won’t be frivolous living by any means, but it will at the very least mean three meals a day, regular bathing, and adult supervised care. It also might reunite some of the children with any living family now similarly freed from captivity.

The child currently cuddled up against Jyn is a bit of an anomaly from the rest, who seem to have their own interconnected friendships and dynamics to gather into now that they’re free. The girl is instead seemingly imprinting on Jyn, who carried her away from the men whose explosions trapped the girl’s leg under a piece of metal. Jyn shakes her head at him, silently implying _can you believe this?_ before her lips part in a soft smile and she brushes the small child’s black hair back with her fingers.

He leans a little harder against the wall of the ship, adjusting his position on the floor next to Jyn both so that their shoulders touch and so he can avoid possibly speaking too loud and disturbing the other children. It’s probably not the best time to start this conversation, but it’s something he’s been mulling over since they started the trip back to base and can’t seem to get off his mind.

“On Fest, family was important,” he starts. “It was one of those widely celebrated traditions. The weather was always cold, so weddings held in people’s homes became custom. Friends and family gathered together to celebrate in people’s living rooms, no matter how many people were invited. Babies being born were the same thing: large baby showers, home births so that people could come by after and visit.”

“Sounds cozy,” Jyn remarks, lightly running one of her hands over his thigh, a physical tether to the here and now while discussing the parts of his past and culture he sometimes wishes he remembered with more clarity. Fest is no longer his home, but he still thinks it’s important to recognize what little of his parents—born and raised on the ice planet—that he has left through his memories.

He nods. “Once I joined the rebels, I never thought I would survive that long, to be honest. I learned to fire a blaster before I was ten. All I could see when I looked at children were potential soldiers. Hell, sometimes they were. I used to train the younger ones when I first started. I wanted them to be able to protect themselves.”

Sometimes it helped. Other times it didn’t. Many of those children grew up with parents on base. They were refugees who became soldiers because their homes were destroyed by the Empire and they still had family to fight for. Those that were more like Cassian—orphaned—usually joined him in Intelligence passing coded messages, gathering intel, and eventually whatever else needed to be done for the sake of the Rebellion.

“So, no, I don’t think I ever really considered it before now. Before you. It’s been in passing, lately. A possibility. Not even really a _want_ but just…a thought.” He closes his fingers around her hand on his thigh. “The war’s not over, but sometimes I find myself wondering what the future will look like when it is. What will happen when the Alliance turns into a Republic again, what to do with real peace as a possibility in front of us…”

“Isn’t wanting children something people are supposed to talk about _before_ they get married?” Jyn asks, faking a lightness in her tone that he can tell is touched with nervousness. He can see the questions in her eyes: _Why haven’t we talked about it before? Should we have? Can we have come this far only to fall apart over this thing we saw as so insignificant before that we never brought it up?_ She has thoughts of him leaving sometimes, knowingly irrational, but ingrained and persistent. He’s as understanding as he can be, though they certainly had arguments about belief and trust and reliance early on in their relationship.

In truth, they talked about a lot of things before officially signing the documents that bonded them in matrimony. They both had married parents, yes, but they’d also lost them. They’d seen what it was like when one parent died and the other limped along brokenly after only to die themselves. (His mother mere months after his father’s death on Carida, her father a whole thirteen years.) They agreed that those events didn’t have to become patterns, that they were open to the idea without actually committing to it.

They continued to discuss the practical benefits of marriage in the most unromantic of circumstances: 

Cassian lying in medbay while she cursed up a storm about how they would have let her in to see him sooner if they were hitched like the Damerons. 

Jyn off on a mission for months while he stared at the blank line of her next-of-kin paperwork wondering where she was, if she was still alive, and if he could stand to wait to greet her with the datapad of documents instead of immediately wrapping her up in his arms. 

Him sitting on their bed cleaning his blaster and outright asking “Jyn, do you want to get married?” and her replying between bites of the nutrition bar in her mouth “Well, yes, if that’s you actually asking.”

The other things in life that were supposed to be important and life-altering to have conversations about already seemed so solid between them. He hadn’t felt the need to discuss what the rest of the galaxy assumed was relationship-defining because he felt they were already so defined, comfortable. Children were never even a possibility when they sometimes didn’t see each other in long enough stretches to create them—let alone think about planning to have them—so it had never really come up before this moment.

He fingers the band that hangs loosely from the chain on his neck. Although his semi-recent promotion means he sometimes does more paperwork than missions that make wearing the ring inconvenient, he rarely puts his ring on his finger. Jyn’s shares its place with the crystal faithfully still kept around her neck. Cassian finds it fitting to keep his ring in the same place on his own person.

“We are rebels,” he jokes, turning her hand to kiss her palm lightly. She rolls her eyes, but allows him to calm her doubts. “I don’t care what your answer is, Jyn. Not like that. I care because if I ever do want a child, it will be with you. If we never have children, my future will still be with you. I don’t want to make those kinds of plans without hearing your side.”

Jyn nods, taking his words in and breathing out a sigh. She then seems to nod to herself in preparation, hiding her face slightly by using his shoulder as a pillow. “When I was little, I always thought I wanted what my parents had. Even though the Empire and their peace was an illusion, I was happy on Coruscant. I thought one day I would marry someone and love them as much as my Mama and Papa loved each other and me. I suppose I wasn’t wrong about that.”

It’s a small, sweet joke, but he laughs loud enough in reaction that he winces, jabbing her ribs with his elbow in retaliation while trying not to jostle the child on her leg. A few of the children seem to drowsily stir for a moment, but seemingly readjust and fall quickly back into undisturbed sleep.

She gives a soft laugh, continuing. “After living with Saw, I wasn’t serious enough with anyone to really think about children that weren’t other soldiers. Saw discouraged me from spending time with anyone else in his cadre, romantically or not. There were a few curious flings before and after he left, but I was never serious enough about them to think about any kind of future past my next job. The idea of raising a child always made me think of being like Saw. I never wanted that for anyone else.”

He nods, understanding her reflections for being as bittersweet as they are. She still has trouble sometimes, reconciling both her parents and Saw. They’d left her and returned with a mission she’d never asked to receive. She’d spent many years asking for Saw’s praise—taking on the title of being his daughter—only to be left behind. She alternated most days between sharing fond memories with him and cursing both her father and her father figure’s names. He knows that she sometimes wishes they’d lived just so that she would have had a way to resolve the conflicting emotions of loving and resenting them in unequal measure.

“I never had enough of a home to want to bring a child into. Not like I do now.” Jyn’s hair tickles his chin lightly when she moves, pressing a kiss against his neck once, then twice. “I think about it in that same way as you, I think. It’s always this collection of maybes and a future that seemed so impossible for so long. It seems ridiculous and idealistic to imagine, let alone talk about. Like it’s something other people get to have because of all of the work we did.”

“I think it’s hard to believe,” he replies, detangling their hands so that he can wrap his arm around her shoulders. Jyn doesn’t curl in further, already awkwardly angled toward his chest and still trying not to disturb the girl on her leg. “Because it’s not over yet. It feels like it never will be. It’s all just that old saying about beasts growing back their multiple heads repeating itself across the galaxy.”

“It’s all we’ve ever known,” she points out, crossing her arms and hugging them firm against her chest. He’s never considered that before, but it’s the truth. Maybe they were both born before the collapse of the Old Republic into the Empire, but it’s not as if they can really remember it.

“Hence not wanting to bring a child into it.” He tries not to sound bitter, but it’s been a bit of a mindset for him for a long time. It seemed selfish to him, to bring a child into a galaxy that was a war zone. It’s hard to remember that things aren’t like that anymore, not everywhere, hopefully not forever.

“I think you would teach any child of ours to hope for a better world, no matter what ends up happening. Whether the peace lasts or not, whether the Empire and the Sith have really been eliminated.” Jyn raises her head to look at him, expression serious.

“So you’re saying I’m too much of an idealist?” he jokes weakly, slightly stuck on the turn of phrase: _child of ours_. A statement like that goes from concept to plausible reality in a way he wasn’t prepared for. It’s exciting and terrifying all at once, this child that could exist but doesn’t yet or maybe never will.

“I’m _saying_ that you can teach them things. Hope, dedication, and not just to a cause, but to doing what’s right. I admire how much you care about what you do, even if it’s all wrapped up in the military hierarchy of it all. And I can teach them…” Jyn draws the sentence out, eyes visibly searching for a likable characteristic about herself.

“Determination.”

“That’s just a nice way of calling me moof-headed, you jerk.”

“Yes, but it’s admirable the way you do it. You’re a leader, Jyn. I love watching you stare down men twice your size and win. Our child would have me under their thumb in a second if they were anything like you.”

They’re smiling at each other in the almost-dark, just these goofy little grins that tug their cheeks up high.

He’s nervous about even the idea being a father. He doesn’t know if there’s such a thing as being ready for something like that. It’s a momentary reprieve from the doubts, however, thinking about her and their possible child in a more positive light. There’s a lingering of joy in the air that he wants to lock far away from his fear of what may come with the Republic’s blossoming future.

“I might like to have a child with you one day, Cassian Andor,” Jyn whispers, her conviction on the matter firm. He leans forward to kiss her gently. Her lips are dry and chapped like his own from being out in the dust and grime, but he’s kissed them split and bleeding too. He deepens the kiss without moving away, cupping her face and preparing to pull her closer at a better angle when he remembers the child still hooking her bottom half down to the floor.

He breaks them apart abruptly then, causing Jyn confusion and Cassian amusement. “That might be very soon if this little one doesn’t stop acting like your shadow, hm?”

Jyn repeats her earlier motion, brushing the child’s hair with the tips of her fingers. It’s a gentle movement he’s used to receiving in the quiet of their bedroom. “Would it be so bad?” she asks tentatively. “I don’t know if I’m ready for _any of it_ quite yet, but, adopting instead? Adopting also?” She looks to him quizzically, still looking unsure herself of what she wants or thinks they can handle.

“Jyn Erso,” he parrots her earlier statement just a bit, slowing her down to breathe instead of letting her get caught up in the details. There will be time for that. A lifetime of working their fears, doubts, and exact wants out together. For now he just wants to bask in the discussion occurring itself. The tentative nature of what could be. “I might like to raise a child with you one day, biologically ours or not.”

He kisses her on the lips again, barely a chaste peck before he presses another kiss onto her forehead and settles back against the ship’s wall. She begins to protest that he doesn’t need to stay on the floor, but she gives up the moment he offers his shoulder as a pillow and his jacket as a blanket.

This is the peace that he knows, he thinks: her body warm and comfortable against his own, speaking to her more than anybody else about the things he fears and wants in equal measure, Jyn by his side as long as she’s got fight left to give.

This is the peace that he trusts, no matter what else the future holds.

**Author's Note:**

> The stuff about Festian culture is very much made up. It was a quick little choice I typed into a note on my phone when I was creating the story, and it sort of just stuck.
> 
> The goal of this story was to illustrate the start of a conversation. One that I felt two soldiers who (likely) have accessible/reliable birth control may not even think about when there’s so much else going on. So here it’s them not only realizing that it’s an attainable choice, but parsing out where they both stand in making it. The only answer being together. I left it on a hopeful note that implies they’re open to having a child, but I also think there are more conversations between them after this that sort of expand on their fears and doubts that could certainly turn it the other way. I enjoy fic both where they do or don’t have kids, so I allowed it to be open and optimistic, but not concrete.
> 
> All comments, kudos, and bookmarks are greatly appreciated! I'm also imgoingtocrash on tumblr, if you ever want to cry about these two with me.


End file.
